After a life of unremitted application,--as is sufficiently proved by the number of his works as a painter, an engraver, and a designer on wood,--Albert Durer died at Nuremberg on 6th April 1528, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. His wife’s wretched temper had unquestionably rendered the latter years of his life very unhappy, and in her eagerness to obtain money she appears to have urged her husband to what seems more like the heartless toil of a slave than an artist’s exercise of his profession. It is said that her sitting-room was under her husband’s studio, and that she was accustomed to give an admonitory knock against the ceiling whenever she suspected that he was “not getting forward with his work.” The following extracts from a letter, written by Bilibald Pirkheimer shortly after Durer’s death, will show that common fame has not greatly belied this heartless, selfish woman, in ascribing, in a great measure, her husband’s death to the daily vexation which she caused him, and to her urging him to continual application in order that a greater sum might be secured to her on his decease. The passages relating to Durer in Pirkheimer’s letter are to the following effect.[V-56] [Footnote V-56: This letter is addressed to “Johann Tscherte,” an architect residing at Vienna, the mutual friend of Pirkheimer and Durer.--Von Murr, Journal, 10er Theil, S. 36.] “I have indeed lost in Albert one of the best friends I had on earth; and nothing pains me more than the thought of his death having been so melancholy, which, next to the will of Providence, I can ascribe to no one but his wife, for she fretted him so much and tasked him so hard that he departed sooner than he otherwise would. He was dried up like a bundle of straw; durst never enjoy himself nor enter into company. This bad woman, moreover, was anxious about that for which she had no occasion to take heed,--she urged him to labour day and night solely that he might earn money, even at the cost of his life, and leave it to her; she was content to live despised, as she does still, provided Albert might leave her six thousand guilders. But she cannot enjoy them: the sum of the matter is, she alone has been the cause of his death. I have often expostulated with her about her fretful, jealous conduct, and warned her what the consequences would be, but have only met with reproach. To the friends and sincere well-wishers of Albert she was sure to be the enemy; while such conduct was to him a cause of exceeding grief, and contributed to bring him to the grave. I have not seen her since his death; she will have nothing to say to me, although I have on many occasions rendered her great service. Whoever contradicts her, or gives not way to her in all things, is sure to incur her enmity; I am, therefore, better pleased that she should keep herself away. She and her sister are not indeed women of loose character; but, on the contrary,